The Inbetween
by Boo Goes Squeak
Summary: Ten years is a long time to wait. And who's to say what will change between now and then.
1. Chapter 1

All characters mentioned belong Disney. Elizabeth's son has been expanded upon by myself.

* * *

**Elizabeth Reflects**

I'm surprised I don't feel lonely. I used to think that made me a bad wife, but now the feeling of guilt has dulled. So I don't feel lonely and I don't feel guilty. In fact, I don't feel much of anything at all. There's only me, my son, and the sea.

* * *

We moved to the cliffs. To be nearer to him, I suppose, but no where is near enough to the dead. The dead and their Shepard. My son waited inside me like a good little boy until a quiet nine months passed. Then he slipped out of my body as softly as he slipped in, and was away like a fish. The midwife said boys like him are always conceived at sea. I said nothing, as I so often say nothing, because I didn't know for sure. I like to think it was that last day on the beach, but there had been other times, times filled with fear and sweat and salt. William and I didn't speak about those times, in the holds of ships, in unknown ports, before all was said and done and the sea claimed his heart once and for all.

* * *

Alexander and I stayed away from people and people stayed away from us. In the early years they whispered I was the wife of the new Davy Jones. Later it became wife of William Turner, the Ferrier of the dead, when they had learned his name. Over time, the whispers changed. I became the wife of a dead man, of a ghost, of a shadow, and then one day, I was the wife of the sea and nothing more was said. It seemed accurate enough to me. Both the sea and I had William's heart, and after a while it became muddled into a woman and a great body of water that had claimed yet another man. And I had married the sea.

* * *

Alexander and I lived off what my father had left for me, what anonymous pirates brought for me, and what William had hidden for me. We could scrape by on it all without my having to get a job. I trained Alex to be a swordsmen and a scholar. But I never took him out in the water. I had no fear of it, but Alex had no inclination to be a pirate or even an honest sailor. He knew his history and was proud, but he said he could not give his heart and life to something that could never love him back. I can't say I wasn't disappointed, or that I understood him. I knew the sea. It held my soul in its swift hands. But even so, my son stayed with his feet planted firmly on dry land while my soul drifted in the reeds.

* * *

I told my son stories of my old life. A young woman, hidden away from the evils of the world, is stolen away, brought to a ship of undead pirates, terrifying and unrelenting. A young man, who loved her from the first moment he saw her, allies himself with a scoundrel to save her. They are wrapped up in a deadly feud and an ancient curse, barely escaping back to the lives they once knew, only to be torn asunder by a man with a heart of ice. They return to their scoundrel in hopes that he will help them, but he only has eyes for desire and a magical compass. They follow him to Davy Jones' Locker, into a war, to the ends of the Earth, thinking that this sly, skunk of a man can redeem of them the sins he helped create. In his own twisted way he does, and flies away while the young man is tied to a ship he'll man until the world itself dies.

Yes, I resent Jack for what he did. But if he hadn't done it, William would have died.

I don't tell my son that part of the story, the part where the young woman has doubt.

* * *

The pirates still regard me as their King. Alexander always watches from a safe distance, hidden behind a chair or under a table as wet, ragged men visit me in the night. They tell me tales of captains Sparrow and Barbossa, hounding after the fabled Fountain of Youth, and of new captains rising from of the depths of the sea. A dark, remorseless man to the South is killing men by the boatful to build his bloody reputation. No one knows his goal in all this, but the pirates are avoiding his red vessel. Another new name to the West, a girl with a thirst for jewels and a crew willing to follow her to hell and back. My visitors tell me of William, flashes of the Flying Dutchman in the fading light of sunset. No one can tell me of more then a glance; all that have seen William face to face are going to his Locker.

* * *

I wait in my house by the cliffs, raising a boy to be like a father who is already fading from my memory, listening to the reports of the World from bedraggled seadogs. I am a witch and a heathen and a demon. I have no where to run. My heart belongs to the sea. 


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I had originally planned for this to be a one shot, but I have since drawn out a full storyline in my head and want to continue. Unfortunately I have a very bad track record with finishing stories, so it is likely that this will go the way of all my other attempts. But as of this moment, it is being updated. We'll see how far I can make it.

Pirates of the Caribbean and all therein belong to Disney.

* * *

A shadow stretches long across the fluttering grass and rises up the wall of the house

A shadow stretches long across the grass and rises up the wall of the house. This man is foreign and out of place on such sturdy land, but he steps swiftly to the door and raps four times like the beat of a heart. He lets a moment pass before he knocks again.

_Thump thump. Thump thump._

The door cracks open and the man squeezes his way through the gap provided, barely bringing his coattails over the threshold before the door snaps shut once more. He turns to his hostess, who is already grumbling in annoyance, and makes an awkward, hasty bow. She gestures stiffly toward a chair and stomps off to the next room. The man settles himself into the straight back wooden chair she indicated. He jumps when he notices a pair of wide blue eyes peering at him from below a table, directly behind the cushioned chair that faces him. He bends slightly to get a better look at the boy, but the slippery little creature darts into a darkened corner and continues to watch at a safe distance.

His hostess comes in with a bottle of rum and two glasses. She hands one glass to her guest, fills it to the brim, then pours a second glass for herself before settling into the cushioned chair. Placing the bottle on the table, she leans back and takes a careful sip. Her guest knocks back his drink in one gulp and wipes his mouth clean with a sleeve.

"What news?" she asks.

The man clears his throat, but it does nothing to ease the rasp in his voice. "The sea is a-churning with goings-on, m'lady. The Captains Sparrow and Barbossa are forever at each other's tail."

"Have they managed to locate their precious fountain?" she asks, making no attempt to mask the disdain in her voice.

"No," he says, "but there's naught to discourage 'em. It does 'em good to have a goal, m'lady. Keeps 'em busy. Keeps 'em from noticing the changes."

"And what changes would these be?"

"The sea is not wha' it used to be. It is no longer an unknown thing, likewise treated with respect and caution. All the time the men of the Crown are making the sea smaller with their maps. Pirating isn't the same when you can see the whole world in a picture book. It don't mean the same thing."

His hostess lets out a small sigh. "Tell me more of the new captains, then."

"The Southern brute has kept up his massacre," he replies, leaning forward. "Wreckage of a ship for miles around, not a single survivor to tell of it. But you might take note, he don't move to strike fellow pirates. He has been known to attack brethren if provoked, but he only lets such senseless destruction loose on 'em government vessels."

"And of the ships he decimates, he claims no cargo for himself?"

"Not from what I 'ave heard."

"Interesting. Keep an eye on him." She pauses for a moment before going on. "And what of the West?"

"You mean the girl? Tha' is another thing entirely. She is a right old fashioned pirate, for such a young thin'. She sails of the coasts of the Americas seeking treasure with tha' suicidal crew of 'ers. I hope to never wind up on the wrong side of 'er blade."

His hostess chuckles and takes another sip of rum. "I suppose that's all you have?"

"Yessum."

"You're my fourth visitor this week," she says as she pushes herself to her feet. "You pirates are eating me out of house and home." She slips back into the second room and returns with a sack of meat and bread. As she goes to hand it to her guest, he shoots to his feet and holds out a gleaming necklace, ornate with gold and jewels.

"I mean to pay, m'lady."

"Of course, you all pay, but I can't always sell what you give me. It would arouse too much suspicion in the market. Those poor people don't need to know that there are pirates crawling through their quaint little village on a daily basis, or that I am the one consorting with them."

The man's hand begins to fall in disappointment, but his hostess quickly slides the shiny token from his fingers. She slips it into a pocket of her dress and presses the sack into his chest. He takes it carefully and allows her to steer him towards the door.

"You all always have the same news," she mutters. "Jack and Barbossa are running like fools around the world. The captain in the South sinks ships and claims lives like Davy Jones himself, and all the while that girl raids the coasts looking for gold."

"I'm sorry there isn't more to tell..."

"Oh, don't worry yourself. I just wish I could be out there myself." And with that she closes the door in his face.

Elizabeth feels a weariness sink down to the marrow of her bones. After almost nine years confined to the land, she can only think of that nearing 10 year mark, that pinnacle of her whole life up to this point. There were to be no more adventures, just a son to raise and a husband to pine for.

"Alexander."

The blue eyes emerge from their hiding space in the corner behind the table. Elizabeth's features soften into a smile.

"It's time for bed."


End file.
